


Only in a Dream

by menel



Series: The Bitter/Sweet Trilogy [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his encounter with the djinn, Dean's bad dreams lead to an unexpected confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on November 9, 2010 on my LiveJournal. It fulfilled the prompt "emotion: sadness" on my Kiss Bingo card. 
> 
> This fic is also a modified coda to the Season Two episode, "What Is and What Should Never Be." Finally, it's dedicated to [Metaallu](http://metaallu.livejournal.com), who despite craving schmoop, gave this "raging angstosaur" so much inspiration.

**“Why’d you have to keep digging? Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone? You were happy.”**  


**“You’re not real. None of it is.”**  


**“It’s everything you want. We’re a family again. No more pain, or fear. Just love and comfort and safety. Dean, stay with us.”**  


**“Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven’t we done enough? I’m begging you, give me the knife. ”**  


**“I’m sorry.”**  


* * * * *

Dean woke with a start. He hated that fucking dream, that fantasy gone wrong. The djinn had looked into his mind, altered reality and granted him his deepest wish. Dean glanced at the other bed where Sam was sprawled in his sleep, one arm hanging over the side. But that wish wasn’t the wish he had told Sam about. At least, not all of it. He lay back down and shut his eyes. Dean was used to bad dreams. What was one more? Nightmares were real. Monsters walked the earth. Why should their dreams be any different?

“You ever going to talk about it?” Sam asked later that morning, stuffing a shirt into his duffel bag.

Dean looked up from his own packing. “Talk about what?”

“What happened with the djinn.”

“Didn’t we already have our caring and sharing moment?” Dean replied dryly. He resumed packing, but Sam didn’t miss the flash of irritation that crossed his brother’s face.

“It’s been a week,” Sam went on, still watching his brother. “Something’s bugging you.”

Dean slung his pack over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said. “We gotta long drive.”

Sam waited a few moments before following his brother out the motel room door.

* * * * *

**“You can have anything you want here. Be anyone you want to be. You can have me.”  
 _  
_“It’s not real. None of this is real.”**

**“Does it matter? It’s more than what you have out there.”**

**“Sammy . . . “**

**“It wouldn’t be wrong. No one would judge us here. No one would even care.”**

**“Sammy . . . “**

**“Can you imagine what that life would be like? Please, Dean. You know I want this too. You’ve known for years.”  
**

“Dean! Dean!”  
  
Dean was jolted awake and he found himself gripping his brother’s t-shirt. “What are you doing?” he said harshly, letting Sam go. His brother was sitting by the side of his bed, his hands on Dean’s shoulders.  
  
Sam let him go instantly and sat back, giving Dean some space but not getting off the bed. “You were . . . uh . . . you were having a dream,” he explained, purposely not using the word ‘nightmare,’ “and . . . uh . . . you were saying my name. I thought you needed . . . “ he trailed off. To wake up? Needed help? Needed me? Sam’s mind filled in the possibilities that he couldn’t voice.  
  
Dean had pushed himself into a sitting position and was leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, well. I don’t.” His voice was still harsh.  
  
Sam looked down at the floor. He hated the distance between them. He’d felt it growing since the incident with the djinn. At first, he’d just thought that Dean was growing disillusioned with their life, that he wanted to walk away from hunting even though Sam could never imagine that happening. Hunting was Dean’s whole life. It defined him. It had never occurred to Sam that Dean might want something more or that he’d ever wanted a different kind of life. Then the djinn happened and now both their worlds had been turned upside down.  
  
The truth was Sam couldn’t imagine any other kind of life anymore, couldn’t imagine life without his brother. The past two years, for all their tragedy and grief and heartache, were the best two years of his life, all because of Dean. They’d grown so close, closer than Sam had ever thought possible, and it was all because of hunting. The irony was too rich. And those feelings he’d struggled with for years? He felt like he’d mastered them at last. He could finally be with his brother and accept not being with his brother. He didn’t want to lose any of this, couldn’t bear to lose any of this. But Dean was pulling away from him, becoming more guarded and reticent than was normal, even by Dean’s standards. Sam felt the loss acutely, and didn’t know what to do about it.  
  
“What’s happening to us?” he asked quietly, his gaze still intently on the floor. “I . . . I know you don’t talk about this sort of stuff, but . . . you know, whatever it is . . . you can tell me. I want to help you.” He shrugged helplessly. “I just don’t know how.”  
  
Dean rested his head against the top of the headboard. He hated seeing his brother in pain, and Sam was most definitely hurting right now. He hated even more that it was his fault. He knew something about helplessness, especially when it came to those you loved. Those stupid dreams. That stupid fucking djinn. After everything he’d been through, Sammy didn’t deserve this.  
  
“You know that wish?” Dean said wearily. “The illusion the djinn created?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“There’s something I left out.”  
  
Sam shifted on the bed, putting up his right leg so he could sit facing his brother. “What’d you leave out?”  
  
Dean took a deep breath. “Towards the end,” he began, “before I managed to snap out of it, the djinn, you know, he was desperate to keep me under.” Dean knew he was rambling. He should’ve stopped talking but he couldn’t. He felt like he was in confession. “It’s like he went deeper into my mind and really dug up stuff that I keep buried. Mom not dying, it wasn’t enough, y’know? Being a family again? It wasn’t enough either. Something was missing and the djinn knew what it was.”  
  
“What was it?”  
  
“You.”  
  
“You already told me this,” Sam interrupted. “You and I weren’t close. We barely knew each other. It was like a trade-off, right? If Mom hadn’t died then our lives would’ve just gone their separate ways.”  
  
“No, Sammy,” Dean said, “that’s not what I meant. I mean, yeah, that’s what happened, but something else happened too.”  
  
Sam was looking at him so expectantly that Dean almost gave up right then. “I mean,” he tried again, “the djinn, he knew my darkest wish. And he offered it to me, right at the end. To try to get me to stay under.”  
  
“Your darkest wish has to do with me?”  
  
Dean looked at Sam as though his brother had turned purple, grown two heads and sprouted antlers. Was Sam being purposely obtuse? Because this wasn’t funny. At all. But the intense expression on Sam’s face and the furrowing of his brow showed that he was truly trying to understand what Dean was saying.  
  
It was at that moment Dean realized that Sam had no clue, none whatsoever. He’d done such a stellar job of hiding that Sam had no idea that Dean returned his brother’s feelings, had returned them from the very beginning, long before that idiotic blindfolded kiss at Laila Carter’s house.  
  
“Geezus,” he muttered. This was so fucked up. Could he stop a confession mid-way?  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Dean could hear the undercurrent of worry in Sam’s voice. It was faint, but it was there. He shook his head, as if that would clear his thoughts. “Look, what I’m trying to say is the djinn knew that . . .” he faltered. “The djinn knew that we could be together there. Be happy.”  
  
“You mean, like, normal people? Not hunters?”  
  
“Well, yeah. Maybe. No.” Dean was getting a headache. He rubbed his temples. He just had to **say** it. “The djinn knew that,” he paused and made sure Sam could see his eyes, “I want you. And that’s what he offered me, right at the end.”  
  
Dean could see the flash of realization in his brother’s eyes, followed by the unmistakable spark of hope. He knew that he had to extinguish it immediately. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean beat him to it. “Don’t talk,” he barked. Sam shut his mouth, but couldn’t stop a silly grin from plastering itself on his face. All the tension had been released from his brother’s body and Dean thought that it must’ve flowed into his. He felt more tightly wound now than when he’d begun this totally-stupid-beyond-belief admission.  
  
"That djinn,” Dean muttered, more to himself than to his brother. “That fucking djinn. He kept saying that we could be together. That no one would judge us or would even care.” Dean shook his head. “I wanted to believe him so bad.”  
  
“Dean . . .”  
  
“Don’t talk!”  
  
Sam had had enough. If his brother wouldn’t let him say the things he wanted to say, how they could still be happy, how he had ever only belonged to Dean even if Dean didn’t know it, well, then, he’d just have to show him. And that’s why before Dean could say anything else, Sam surged forward, climbing on top of the bed and straddling his brother, pinning him against the headboard. He held Dean’s face in both his hands and kissed him, filling that kiss with all the longing and emotion that his brother wouldn’t let him say. He knew Dean understood. Dean had always known.  
  
Sam felt Dean’s hands on his back, and for a moment the old fear returned, the fear of being pushed away. But Dean held him closer and Sam melted into the embrace. How long had he waited for this? It was like being in a dream. Dean’s hands had snaked under his shirt and the skin on skin contact made Sam crave more. He broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, his eye momentarily catching Dean’s. His brother was watching him, like he always watched him, with that same unreadable expression that Sam had seen so many times before. Sam finally understood what that expression meant, what it had meant all along and he could’ve laughed at his own blindness. When Sam reached out again, Dean caught both his wrists. Sam hesitated, his skin tingling from the coolness of the room and the anticipation of touching his brother.  
  
Dean held his brother’s wrists in his hands and he knew he should’ve ended the encounter right then. He knew it. Every instinct told him to do so. Dean was normally superb when it came to following his instincts. It was one of the things that made him such a great hunter. But Sam had always been his weakness and the idea of his brother willing and pliant beneath him was too much. That was why Dean pushed his brother onto the bed. It was his turn to do the straddling. He bent down, feeling like the worst kind of predator and kissed his brother again, even as the guilt was eating him up inside. Kissing Sam was bittersweet and if Sam hadn’t been so absorbed in the kiss, he would’ve felt the sadness that Dean infused into it, would’ve realized that in his own way, Dean was saying that this was the end. But Sam didn’t notice any of these things. All he was aware of was the taste of his brother on his lips, of the weight of Dean on top of him, of his own happiness. He wanted to touch Dean, but his brother still held his wrists pinned at the sides of his body. Sam wasn’t going to fight for control. He would do anything Dean wanted him to do, be anything Dean wanted him to be.  
  
Dean was making his way down Sam’s body, leisurely mapping the planes of his brother’s chest and abdomen with his lips. Sam was leaner and taller than him, but Dean knew the strength lurking beneath that frame. Sam shifted restlessly beneath him, responding to the sensations and wanting more contact but being prevented from it.  
  
“Dean,” Sam said softly and Dean recognized that tone, had heard it in himself when he’d dreamt about his brother during the night. It was pure need. He kept Sam’s wrists pinned, knowing that it would be make the job ahead more difficult but not caring. The more Sam participated, the harder it would be to stop. And Dean planned on stopping. He wasn’t going to let it go that far, just far enough . . .  
  
Sam felt the slickness of a tongue on his naval, followed by the scrape of teeth. My god, he should’ve guessed that his brother would be a cock tease! The teeth grazed lower and Sam’s breathing hitched. His addled brain had an idea of what his brother was going to do, and his suspicion was confirmed when Dean gripped the band of his sweat pants with his teeth. Fuck, this was going to be agonizing! Sam helped as best as he could, lifting his hips as Dean pulled his sweats down, savoring the contact of the cloth against his erection, even though it was nowhere near enough. Dean pulled the pants down as far as Sam’s thighs, just giving his brother enough room to spread his legs more comfortably. There was a lick, followed by another. Just as Sam thought he was losing his mind, he was engulfed in warm heat, being massaged by the pressure of his brother’s tongue. There was no way Sam was going to last. With anybody else, he would’ve been embarrassed by his lack of stamina, but this was **Dean**. His brother wouldn’t judge him for this. Not now, not at the moment that their lives were changing forever.  
  
Dean was good. He knew what to do with his tongue, where to apply pressure, how deep to take Sam before releasing him and then taking him in again. The rhythm they set up was so effortless that it should’ve occurred to Sam that Dean had done this before. It should’ve been a revelation because Sam had never been with another guy, in any way, but Dean had practice. It didn’t matter. Sam would get better with practice too. Dean would teach him like Dean had taught him almost everything else in his life that mattered the most. Those were Sam’s thoughts as he shot his load into Dean’s mouth, **There will be a next time. And a next. And a next because my brother loves me, just the way I love him. At last.**  
  
Dean licked Sam clean before making his way up his brother’s body again. Not once had he released Sam’s wrists, not even when Sam had jerked with the force of his orgasm, and Dean thought he might snap his brother’s wrists as Sam rode his orgasm out. Now Sam had gone boneless beneath him, his breathing slowly evening out. Dean licked his way up Sam’s body too, savoring the salt of his brother’s sweat mingling with the aftertaste of the come in his mouth. This was what Sam **really** tasted like, and he’d remember it forever.  
  
Sam was tugging at his wrists, grinning as Dean leaned over him. “My turn now,” he said. But Dean stubbornly held his wrists, only allowing Sam enough movement so that he could lift his arms from the side of body before his hands were pinned down again, this time on either side of his head. His brother was such a control freak, even in bed. Sam was already imagining the BDSM possibilities. “Dean,” he said with a laugh. “Come on.”  
  
There was no humor in Dean’s eyes and that was what caught Sam’s attention. “What’s wrong?” he asked, the first signs of dread coming over him.  
  
“Sammy.” Dean sounded so broken that Sam’s heart lurched. The dread grew.  
  
Dean was shaking his head, avoiding Sam’s eyes. His gaze fixated on the hollow base of Sam’s neck and he dipped his head to lick and kiss the spot, hiding what he knew would soon be tears. He left a trail of kisses up his brother’s neck and Sam began to struggle. He needed to hold Dean, to break whatever mad idea was crossing his brother’s mind, but Dean was stronger than him, had always been stronger than him. The grip on his wrists was now painful enough to bruise and Dean had somehow managed to lock his legs so that Sam had practically no mobility. He lay there helplessly as Dean began whispering in his ear.  
  
“That djinn,” he said, his voice almost cracking. “That djinn knew how I felt about you and he used it against me. You’re my weakness, Sammy. You’ve always been. And what he offered? That could only ever happen in a dream. You understand? Only in a dream.”  
  
Sam wanted to scream but his voice died in his throat. Dean was wrong, so totally wrong. They weren’t each other’s weaknesses, they were each other’s strength. They were **stronger** together. Couldn’t his brother see that? But the kind of strength Sam was thinking of crossed a line that Dean wasn’t willing to go beyond. Sam wanted to take it back. All of it. It would’ve been better not to know than to live like this. This would break him too.  
  
Dean was getting off him, but Sam remained motionless on the bed. He lay there, almost in a stupor as he heard his brother moving around their motel room. Dean was dressing. He knew it. Then there was the click of the motel door opening and shutting. Dean was going to go for a drive. He knew that too. He knew his brother better than anyone else and for the first time in his life, there was something about his brother that he wished he didn’t know.  
  
  
 **Fin.**


End file.
